


Imagine Dragons Might be on to Something

by Trista_zevkia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Dragon!Castiel, First Meetings, M/M, Tagging will ruin the ending, True Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:17:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The small town decides to sacrifice a virgin to the dragon, as you do. Dean's out of running for the job, but Sam's not.</p><p>Dean does not approve. Nor does the Dragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imagine Dragons Might be on to Something

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea and the time, so I wrote and posted this in less than 24 hours. Just wanted to do that, but I will be going back later to edit and self beta this. Hope you like, and please be gentle.

Dean felt he was an easy going guy, live and let live and all of that. Sure, he'd not been too fond of this town since they'd got here, and he routinely found himself humming Poor Provencal Town from the song _Belle, in Disney's Beauty and the Beast_ as he walked down the tiny streets, which rolled up at 5 pm on the dot. 

He was working at the local featureless franchise of a national chain of boring car repair places, but he was working. With their apartment right on the county line, Sam got to choose which high school to go to, and he opted for the one in the other town. It was a hassle to drive him to school and then get to work on time, but they were making it work.

Sam seemed content, so Dean shoved down his boredom and annoyance and went to work. They'd been here four months, probably the longest they'd settled anywhere since Mom died. Dean had mainly convinced John to try this homesteading thing as an alternative to losing Sam, so John could drop in anytime but never did. Dean had no idea where the man was now or what he was hunting, but he still called and left a message as he roared down the highway to the sheriff's office. 

"Dad, there's been some sort of misunderstanding. I just got called and told that Sammy was in jail, I'm on my way there now. Also, some of the local farmers have reported their cows are disappearing without a trace. Not mutilated, not dead, not rustled like in a Western, just one or two cows from each herd disappearing overnight, about once a week. Doesn't match anything I've ever heard of, so call me back. I'm at the sheriff's office now, I'll let you know about Sam." 

Shutting off the phone and turning off the Impala's pleasing rumble, Dean shoved down the worry he felt. He hadn't done anything about the cattle deaths, so nobody could accuse him of impersonating a fed or any other hunter related things, which also meant they had no reason to go after Sam to get to him. Hell, Dean hadn't even slept with any daughters of cops, as being a single dad/brother and minimum wage worker was all he had time for. Still, he did his best to look presentable as he walked into the single story building, only giving the receptionist half his usual charming smile. 

"Hi, I was called and told my brother had been brought it. He didn't call me himself, which was weird, so I wanted to make sure he was okay?" 

"Name?" 

"My brother is Samuel Winchester, I'm Dean." Dean cranked up his worried but charming smile a notch, but the receptionist didn't seem to notice. She simply picked up the phone and dialed. 

"Dean Winchester is here to see his brother, Samuel." She hung up and went back to her computer, without offering any further instructions to Dean. 

Should he sit and wait? Stand? Go through the door to the right of the receptionist's bullet proof window? The smile slid off his face and Dean considered going out to the Impala for his fake badge. He could get Sam out and they could try this home-base thing a few states over. The door opened before he could decide, showing a uniformed and armed sheriff, though he didn't wear a hat on his bald head. Uriel Fortesque, the duly elected county sheriff himself, was taking Dean to Sam. Dean felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up; he didn't like this. But, they'd called about Sam, and Sam wasn't answering either of his phones, even the one he wasn’t supposed to tell anybody he had. 

"This way, Mr. Winchester." The sheriff said, holding the door open. 

Dean followed, and did his best to sound polite. "What's this all about, Sheriff?" 

"You heard about the missing cows, Mr. Winchester?" 

Dean decided he didn't like the way Uriel was pronouncing his name; it was said with the same kind of infliction as most insults would be handed out, some pseudo-intelligent insult Uriel had just made up, like mudmonkey or something. "Just what people have said in passing. I didn't have any cows so I didn't pay it much attention. I still don't have any cows, so I know Sam's not stealing them." 

"No, Sam's going to help us fix the problem." 

Dean smiled, his pride at his little brother distracting him, so he stepped through the door Uriel held open for him. It clanged shut just as Dean realized it wasn't a door so much a cell door. "The hell?" 

"When dealing with dragons, sometimes the hardest part is to find the virgin to sacrifice to them." 

Dean's brain was working again, and able to skip over parts of that statement to get to the one he could argue with. Or you know, lie his ass off. "Sam's not a virgin; my prom date spent the night with him. We had this huge fight over it, me and Sam, but I only broke up with the girl. Bros before sexy young ladies with panty kinks, right? You can call her and she'll tell you all about it, it's Rhonda..." 

"That's not what our psychic says about Sam, and I trust Marv a whole lot more than you. He also said you'd be a problem, so we took care of you first. We might let you out when it's all over." Uriel tapped on the bars with his keys before leaving, smirk firmly set into his features. 

Dean watched him go, wanting to scream and rant, but he hadn't even been searched. A phone call to Sam went straight to voice mail again, as did the call to John. His message to his dad sounded a great deal less sure of himself than his single word message to Sam. 

"Dad, I don't know what terrible movie these people got their information from, but they think dragons are stealing their cattle. They've decided that sacrificing a virgin to the dragon will stop 'em, and Sam's the virgin they chose. I left him a coded message to go, run, so answer if he calls you. I'm, well, I'll be looking for him, just call me back and tell me anything you might know about dragons." 

Phone back in his pocket, Dean was able to pull out the lock-picking kit he kept hidden in his coat. Since they hadn't searched him, he didn't even have to settle for the emergency back-up lock-picks hidden in his wrist bands, boots, and jean cuffs. He had the door open in less time than it had taken him to call his dad, and then he was walking out of the cells, hoping nobody was watching the cameras and raising an alarm about him. When he got to the back door without seeing anybody, he was beginning to think this was too easy. 

Sneaking around the building, he risked looking in the front door. The receptionist was gone and the lights were off. Most police stations he'd been to never closed, as there was always somebody waiting for someone to commit a crime. The door was locked, so he had to pick it to get back inside. The door beside the receptionist's window also needed picking, but then he was looking at the computerized dispatch. The GPS of four city cops and two sheriff’s cars were all at the same location. It wasn't too far away, and Dean didn't have any trouble figuring out the best way to get there. The Impala seemed to roar with eagerness to save Sam as they sped their way there. 

This place wasn't as flat as Kansas, though it did seem to be trying for that honor. This allowed Dean to see the glow of all the gathered headlights long before he got close enough to be seen. It was out in the countryside, in a place you could easily imagine cows living, when they weren’t being eaten by mythical cultures. With his headlights off, Dean still managed to find a gravel farm road between a hill and some trees to hide the Impala. 

After that, he was on foot, with the first aid kit and a nice assortment of lethal weapons. If Sammy was dead, so was everyone who'd caused it. As he got closer, he could hear a familiar droning, though he couldn't place it until he got closer. It did let him move without worrying about being heard coming though, so he got there quickly. 

Almost the whole town had turned out in this small valley between some not-very-impressive hills to stake his brother to a fucking rock. Sammy was still moving though, and as he was gagged he could only shoot pleading or angry looks at his captors. Dean bit his bottom lip and forced himself to assess the situation. 

The droning noise was coming from the town mayor, a bloated pompous man who loved the sound of his own voice. He'd come into the shop a few weeks ago for an oil change and spent the whole wait talking. Dean had been doing the oil change but he still managed to hear Mayor Adler through the door to the customer lounge. He was now talking about sacrifices made for the greater good. Dean didn't scream out that if Adler really believed what he was saying, he'd be the one on the rock. Dean might have muttered it under his breath, but as he was alone no one could prove it. 

The cops seemed to be there around Sam, as if all of them had been called on to escort Sam to the rock and make sure he stayed there. Dean wouldn't be surprised at all if that was the case; Sam was rather scrappy, and well taught. The crowd just seemed to be there to take part, though many of them looked uneasy about what was going on. A tiny, half-point in their favor. 

Suddenly, Zachariah seemed to run out of words, as the droning stopped. An imposing woman in a clerical outfit took the mike from Zachariah and began to pray. The crowd bowed their heads, and Dean pulled out his best long range gun. It seemed he was out of time, but if anyone moved toward Sammy, they'd find out he wasn't out of ammo. But when the prayer was finished, everybody just began to walk away. 

Dean watched them carefully, noticing the cops were the last to leave. As the chill of the deepest part of night settled around him, Dean waited and watched, until only the two of them were left. Sam seemed to realize that about the same time, as he starting working to slip his hand out of the cuff. Cautiously, Dean moved down into the valley and finally to the stone to help. There were tears in Sam's eyes, and it wasn't until Dean got close enough that he could smell why. The entire area seemed to be saturated with some stink that Dean fought not to cry at. His vision was wavering when he flipped the loose bit of the gag over Sam's nose. 

"I should make you get out of those cuffs yourself." He said, telling Sam he was glad he was alive in their special brother language. "But that smell is making me want to hurl. We get you out, get me some supper, and then we're getting you laid so this shit doesn't happen again." 

Sam only rattled his cuffs in reply. 

"Yeah, yeah, enough whining." Dean moved over to the cuff on Sam's right arm, trying to work out if he should get a stick to pick the huge lock on the ancient looking cuffs. Fifteen minutes later, when even his finest tools couldn't get a tiny click out of the cuffs Dean was starting to consider getting rocks to break the damn things. 

"They are spelled." 

The deep voice had Dean whirling around and reaching for his gun even before the words registered. Under the moonlight, Dean could only make out dark hair, blue eyes, and no weapons to speak of. 

"The cuffs are ancient iron, designed to look as if they have a key when they can only be unlocked by a counterspell." 

"And how do you know this?" 

"I'm a collector of knowledge." The man offered with a perfectly deadpan manner. Dean hoped he was joking, but couldn't tell. 

"So, are you going to release my brother?" Dean tried not to let his voice be the threat it wanted to be, he knew enough about witches and magic users to know they didn't respond normally to threats of physical violence. 

"To give you the counterspell, I would need an equal exchange of information." 

"Well, Sam's the smarter of us, so you'd probably be better off freeing him first. You know, so he can give you the good information." 

"If you are smart enough to make a ploy like that, I feel you will do for the questions I need answered." 

"Riddles in the dark." Dean muttered mostly to himself, but the man tilted his head as if he'd heard. "What do you want to know?" 

"Why is your littermate chained to a rock?" 

"The people in town are fucking morons." Dean answered the question automatically as a smartass, because he was thinking about the question. Littermate? "They think sacrificing a virgin will keep the local dragon from eating their cattle." 

Dean expected all sorts of strangely worded questions after that, like why the town thought they had a mythical creature to blame for their suffering, but not the question he actually got. 

"Why would a predator care about the sexual activities of its food?" 

"I have no fucking idea.” Dean answered completely honestly for once in his life. “I've never given a rat's ass if my burger got some before it was ground up." 

"Why would a bony child be considered adequate nutritional replacement for a well fed cow? Maybe a sheep, but not a cow." 

Sam gave a protesting moan, which Dean could easily interpret as complaining that he wasn't a child. 

"I don't know that either; me and my brother just moved here. Hell, if I was the dragon? I'd return the virgins unharmed and eat the fat, juicy mayor." 

"And you are not suggesting that to get revenge for what he attempted to do to your litter, uh, brother?" 

"Maybe a little, but I'd rather have a good burger than a chicken wing any meal of the day." 

"I have no idea what that means." 

"Let my littermate out of those shackles, and I'll be glad to take you to dinner, show you exactly what I mean." 

"Dean!" Sam mumbled through his gag. He was probably worried about Dean bargaining with this stranger, but Dean ignored him. He could kill the man later if he turned out to be a witch or something, but honestly, none of his instincts were flaring. This guy didn't seem harmless, but he also didn't seem like he meant any harm. Dean was kind of intrigued, and the guy was hot, something he only felt comfortable thinking about two states away from his dad. 

"You would provide food for me?" 

"Whatever you want." Dean leaned forward to make sure his wink was visible. "If things go really well, I'll make you breakfast." 

Strong fingers curled around the base of his skull and the man was leaning forward. Dude moved fast, but Dean could go with that and was ready to be kissed when the man bent his head to sniff Dean's neck. A little weird, but Sam was chained to a rock, so Dean leaned in to sniff the man back. Dean couldn't smell anything over the stink the townsfolk had used on the rock, but the action had the man shivering. 

"You smell wonderful, young, healthy and fertile." 

The whisper of that deep voice in his ear had Dean shivering back. Wait, dude just said he was fertile? Did he mean horny? Yeah, Dean decided, the guy had a weird vocabulary and meant he could smell Dean's sex, or desire, or something sexy. The man stood back and looked very solemn as he spoke. 

"I accept your proposal. I will release the virgin in exchange for the information you have added to my horde. I will share my horde with you, as you share yours with me, as it has always been with mates." 

Dean froze, knowing the guy didn't mean littermates, siblings, like he had when talking about Sam. He probably also didn't mean mates like the British term for buddies. And why was he going on about hordes? Sam was muttering into his gag again, words Dean was too busy to translate, but the guy was walking away. Walking away without freeing Sam. 

"Wait, you, what's your name? Where are you going?" 

The man turned back around to look at Dean, and began to change. His clothes pulled back into his body, only to turn into scales before Dean got to see the goods. The scales were as blue as his eyes, reflecting gold and black as they moved. His neck extended, as did the rest of him, all in a sinuous movement that Dean thought should really be more disgusting than it was. If anything, Dean might be forced to comment that it was sensual. 

Soon enough, there was a dragon sitting before him with blue eyes that seemed to be swirling. Not just a human with long fingers and wings, like might be acceptable on a fantasy TV show with a low graphics budget, but a real, Smaug would tap that, old school wyrm of a dragon. His underbelly didn't have the blemish that lead to Smaug's downfall, but it was scaled in black to match the underside of those huge wings. If the dragon flew at night, no one would ever see him against the night sky, Night Fury style. 

"Gorgeous." Dean said and then immediately pretended he didn't, because, monster, evil, family business. Except, he was on leave from the family business right now, to focus on his family. 

"My name is Castiel." The dragon said, though after the 'el' part he sort of gave up on English and made sounds Dean would never be able to replicate. When he stopped, he looked at Dean expectantly. 

"Hi, Cas, I'm Dean." 

Eyes about the size of his head blinked at him twice. "Hello, Dean." The smile was in his eyes and voice, even though dragons didn't smile it seemed. Slowly, he turned to look at Sam and made more dragon noises. Blue fire traced from each cuff to the next, but they all separated at the same time. 

Sam sprang up, as if afraid they'd reattach themselves to him, and backed away from the dragon, pulling out the gag as he went. He sent Dean his bitchface that translated to 'that was a stupid move' but Dean shrugged it off. Dragons didn't exist an hour ago; he couldn't be expected to bargain with one perfectly. It might still be able to bleed, which would mean that Dean could kill it any time, once he found out how. 

Cas, the human, was once again standing in front of Dean, having snuck into his personal space while Dean communicated through expressions with Sam. As he returned his feet to the ground and hoped his heart would calm down, Dean found his smart mouth was still working. 

"Jez. Ever hear of personal space, Cas?" 

"No, but I will store the information in my horde if you tell it to me." 

"You have an information horde?" Dean felt he had to ask, just to clarify. Smaug at least had gold. 

"Yes. I am the only dragon with such." Dragons could do pride then, so Tolkien got that right. 

"I'm engaged to the nerdiest dragon who ever lived." Behind him, Dean could hear Sam smother a laugh. He flipped him off behind his back. 

"Nerdiest? You have a great deal of information and will only add to my horde. Once we have removed the sauce from you and your brother." 

“Sauce? You mean this stink is like dragon ketchup?” 

“Perhaps, though I do not know of ketchup.” 

"Right. Well, Sam and I have to pack up and get out of town before they decide to kill us for not getting eaten. Then I've got to find a place to live, a new job, but once that's sorted out, I'll call you." 

Sam made a choked off, surprised squeal, clearly not liking the 'I'll call you' line being used on a dragon. 

"I know of the human need for such things, money and shelter. You do not need to worry, my den has several thousands of years’ worth of books, on any subject you could wish. It is climate controlled and I had plumbing and electricity installed only twenty years ago. I am told the water pressure is excellent, though I have a limited basis for comparison. My treasure room is small, but well stocked with the gold and gems I need to purchase or protect my knowledge." 

"Yes, but do you have wi-fi?" 

"My brother Gabriel has told me that it is a 'wi-fi hot spot' and he seems pleased when he says that." 

Dean could hear the quotes just as clearly as he could hear Sam's whine of longing. The internet they had was crap and pirated from some neighbors with poor password skills. How pitiful was his life on the right side of the law that the offer of horny, literal and figurative, dragon was tempting? 

"Me and Sam will go get our stuff. Where should we met?" 

"Take me to town with you. I have always wanted to try one of those cars." 

"Wait, hold it right there. My baby is not one of ‘those’ cars. My baby is a 1967 Chevrolet Impala." 

"Dean, is now really the time?" 

"It's always the time to defend my baby, Sam." Dean shot back, turning once again to his dragon. The dragon, the nerdy little dragon dude who was in no way Dean’s. 

"I was referring to the black car hidden four hills over. Do you have a child as well? You don't smell mated." 

"I can't explain the beauty that is my Impala, who I call baby to show she is as special to me as a child. Come take a look." Dean walked off, and Cas followed. 

With a heavy and loud sigh, Sam did as well. Dean realized he was grinning as he explained what a carb was and why you wanted four on the floor. They were in the car and in town before Dean realized it, having so much to say about his baby to a brand new audience. Cas even got shotgun for his first trip in a car. As they pulled up in behind their apartment building, Dean saw Cas in the streetlight and smiled. Cas looked away from the window just in time to catch the look, and smile shyly back. A closing door broke their stare, as Sam got out and headed inside. 

"Right, I should go pack." 

"Wait, Dean." 

Surprising himself, Dean waited. 

"There is something I've wanted to try my whole life." Cas stated, before lurching across the seat to grab Dean's shoulders. A grab that lead to a sloppy kiss, one Dean gladly took control of, showing Cas how they fit together. And they fit together so very well, Cas sliding into Dean's lap like he was made for it, their erections slotting together for the perfect friction, only intercepted for Sam's ring tone. 

"Fucking cockblock!" Dean swore, even as he pulled away to answer. "What?" 

"Crazy town, Dean. Let's get the hell out of here." Sam snapped before hanging up. 

"Guess getting almost sacrificed can even make Sam mad." Forcing himself to only kiss Cas' cheek, Dean spoke to him. "Look, I do first date sex, but we'll have to talk about the mate thing. First, I need to get Sam someplace safe so these nutbags don't go after him. Sam will always be my priority and if you really want to mate me you have to accept that." 

“The protection of the nest is always paramount.” Cas said so calmly, so matter-of-factly, that Dean just had to kiss him again. Every time he stopped kissing Cas, he said something perfect, as if he didn’t care about Dean’s screwed up life or priorities not being him. Dean was only going to give Cas a nice kiss and then go help Sam pack, but then he was looking up at the thumps of bags being thrown into the backseat. 

“I packed for you; now let’s get the hell out of here.” Sam groused as he wedged his body in with all their worldly goods. 

Dean reached for the ignition just in time to see blue lights in the mirror. They were blocking the direct route to the main road, but focused on the apartment building. “Shit, they must have noticed I wasn’t in jail anymore.” 

“Go, my den is to the west of here. I will find you, after I distract them.” Cas stated, but Dean grabbed his arm. 

“Stay safe, and try to make it so they don’t do this again in a year.” 

Cas grinned and dived in for another kiss before opening the door and sliding out over Dean’s lap. 

Dean tried not to let his eyes roll up in his head. Eventually, focusing only on his driving, Dean managed to calm his erection down. He got Sam to call their dad and give the all clear. He then drove northwest, using the backroads that a lifetime of training had taught him to navigate. He knew he should be working harder to escape the dragon; instead he just drove until dawn and got a room at the first hotel he could park at that hid the Impala from the road. Dean took a quick shower since he had less dragon ketchup on him than Sam, and got out to find Sam had sent him a video link. 

The headline was ‘Town Goes Overboard With Celebrations’ though the nearest holiday was unattached drifter Christmas, so it didn’t make much sense. Someone was filming the cops out their apartment window when a roar of blue flame erupted down the street. Repeat viewings would show that nothing was damaged, not even the clunker that was parked there before the cops showed up. A high pitched scream turned out to be the mayor, unctuous Zachariah panicking at the fire. Cas landed and stayed in his dragon form, wings brushing the buildings on both sides of the city street. 

“Zachariah, my meal informed me that you are responsible for only feeding me bones and gristle.” Tilting his head, Cas zoomed in on the mayor. “I eat meaty things that put up a fight. Do not presume to tell me what to do or who to eat. Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy, and taste good with ketchup.” 

Cas growled out his threat and then took wing. Dean wanted to cheer as Zachariah fainted in front of his town and the internet. Instead, he watched a few more times before falling asleep. If he dreamed of co-ownership of a vast library, he sure wasn’t telling anyone. 

Cas joined them when they stopped for gas the next afternoon, sliding into the backseat of the car as if he’d always been there. Sam didn’t even make a face. When they got to Lebanon, Kansas, Dean was very impressed with Cas’ den, but he still got an apartment and a job. Sam found he didn’t mind living mostly alone, as Dean seemed to spend most of his time with Cas. 

When John finally dropped in, about six months after the move, Dean met him at the apartment door. “Dad, I’m bisexual and in love with that man. His name is Cas and if you have any problems with that you can leave right now.” 

John looked astonished, but after a few moments he walked into the apartment and shook Cas’ hand. Beaming, Dean still held off on that whole ‘dragon’ thing for a little while longer, not thinking this little omission would ever come back to haunt him. 

It didn’t, not for six years, until Cas presented Dean with the egg they’d made together. Then, well, Grandpa John found he no longer cared. 

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 


End file.
